Sacred Space

Liturgy and Architecture at Durham Cathedral

Allan Doig

‘The Interior of Durham Abbey; with a Procession of Monks on one of their Grand Festivals Previous to the
Reformation’, E Nash, 1828 (Cathedral Library, Durham)

Medieval liturgies in the English
church were often very mobile.
Processions would move through
a sequence of interconnecting spaces in and
around the church or cathedral. On great
occasions they ranged further still, visiting
parts of the town, other churches and even
surrounding fields, which were blessed on
Rogation Days prior to the harvest. The example
of Durham Cathedral demonstrates that the
local saint and the liturgy as it was adapted
to his cult, were determining factors of the
architecture that developed around his shrine.

Durham Cathedral was built as the final
resting place for the relics of St Cuthbert. It
is hardly surprising then that the reputation
of the saint and aspects of the cult that
was established around his relics, defined
the cathedral’s architecture and patterns
of spatial organisation and use. The Rites
of Durham [1] is an essential source for
exploring the origin and development of
the cult, its geographical location and the
sequential architectural response to its
ceremonial, liturgy and social structure.

The Rites of Durham survives in a number
of variant manuscripts, the oldest of which
seems to have been written just before 1600. It
has every mark of being a first-hand account
in great detail by someone who knew the
fabric of the cathedral intimately and was close
to the ceremonial, the official structure, and
the individuals involved. He looks back with
great sympathy and fondness, but without
theological or political comment. By the time
it was written, the world it described had been
swept away. The author records some of the
early losses to the fabric as a result of reforming
zeal, but the overall architectural arrangement
has survived remarkably intact. The use of
and relationships between the spaces and the
sacred precincts have changed radically: a point
demonstrated by the fittings and furnishings,
and the treatment of the patron, St Cuthbert.

Cuthbert died on 20 March 687 and was
buried on Holy Island in St Peter’s Church in
a feretory (a shrine holding the saint’s relics)
a little above the pavement on the left side of
the altar. He had great powers of discernment
and healing in life, and his body remained
an existential connection with the saint,
now among the whole company of heaven.
Continuing miracles, described by Reginald of
Durham in his Libellius de admirandis beati Cuthberti virtutibus, proved that the saint’s
power endured. A late 12th-century manuscript
that was probably Reginald’s own autograph
copy is kept in the cathedral treasury. When
Cuthbert was disinterred 11 years after his death
he was found ‘whole, lying like a man sleeping,
being found safe & uncorrupted & lyeth awake,
and all his masse clothes safe & fresh as they
were at ye first hour that they were put on him’.[2]

In 875 he was again disinterred when
the monks fled before Viking incursions.
The community entrusted with the care of
these sacred relics was defined by that task
and their ‘Exodus’ experience which lasted
120 years until, while trying to return with
the body to Chester-le-Street where they had
sheltered before, the bier on which the saint
was borne became fixed to the spot. After
fasting and prayer to determine what this
meant, the bishop and the community had
a revelation that the body should be carried
to Dunholm, a hill (or ‘dun’) on an island (or
‘holm’; ‘Dunholm’ gradually evolved into the
modern ‘Durham’). His last resting place was
miraculously revealed to them and a temporary
shelter of wattle was built. Then ‘the Bishop
came with ye corpse and with all his [strength]
did worship’.[3] The cult was now permanently
located on a protected and virgin site, divinely
revealed. The bishop then began work on:

a mykle [little] kirk of stone, and
while it was in [the] making from
ye Wanded kirk or chapel they
brought ye body of that holy man
Saint Cuthbert: & translated him
into another White Kirk so called,
& there his body Remained [four]
years, while ye more kirk was builded,
then the Bishop Aldun did hallow
ye more kirk or great kirk so called
before ye kallends of September, &
translated Saint Cuthbert’s body out
of ye white kirk into ye great kirk as
soon as ye great kirk was hallowed
to more worship than before.[4]

It seems improbable that Cuthbert’s body was
moved from the wattle church (which even then
appears to have had a stone tomb for the saint)
into a ‘White church’ (implying stone) for four
years before being translated into the greater
stone church at its consecration on 4 September
998.[5] Different interpretations are compatible
with the text of the manuscripts.[6] Whatever the
finer details of that sequence, however, there is
no doubt that the sanctity of the relics and the
established liturgy of the cult of St Cuthbert
dictated the fundamental characteristics of
the architecture from its precise location to its
size and material. Only the most important of
buildings at this date were of stone, so if there
was an intervening smaller church of stone,
then this was a sequence of utmost significance.

In the new abbey church, completed
in 1020,[7] Cuthbert’s shrine was on a broad
pavement elevated ‘[three] yards high, being
in a most Sumptuous & goodly shrine above
ye high altar called ye fereture’.[8] This raised
pavement recalled the first feretory in St Peter’s
Church on Holy Island. Bishop Cosin’s Roll
manuscript continues, describing the saint’s
tomb in the cloister,[9] ‘when he was translated
out of the White Church to be laid in the
Abbey Church’, resulting in multiple sites for
veneration. Cosin goes on to describe a carved
and painted stone effigy of the saint, with
mitre and crozier ‘as he was accustomed to
say mass’, placed above the tomb which was
enclosed by a wooden screen. This created
a miniature church, recalling the first one of
wattle which had received Cuthbert’s body
on his miraculous arrival. That resting-place
had been sanctified and memorialised at what
was either another temporary resting-place
for Cuthbert’s reliquary or had possibly been
Cuthbert’s shrine in the Saxon Cathedral.[10]

The structure, in any event, remained
in the garth (a garden enclosed by a cloister)
until the Dissolution, near the door where
deceased monks were carried for burial in
the garth. The monks thus made a journey
similar to Cuthbert’s, passing the same
sanctified place, in the hope of the same final
destination in heaven. In this monument, the
long Exodus and the miraculous designation
of its end is called to mind in order to bring
out the full significance of the saint’s tomb.
Processions to the monument and to the
tomb or high altar were, then, redolent of
the memory of that extraordinary Exodus
experience. The high altar was just to the west
of the intended final tomb, so the mass, which
joined the worship of the community with
the worship of heaven, was reinforced by the
relics which were the existential connection
with the saint who continued to intercede
on their behalf in the courts of heaven.

Plan showing the ancient arrangements according to existing remains and other evidence [Based on the
Ordnance Survey 1/500 Plan (1860), and that made by John Carter and published by the Society of Antiquaries
of London in 1801]’, WH St John-Hope, in Fowler’s edition of Rites of Durham

The monumental structure in the cloister
stood until the Dissolution when Dean Horne
caused it to be demolished and its material given
over to his own use. He had Cuthbert’s effigy
set against the cloister wall. Dean Whittingham
had it defaced and broken up to remove all trace
of the cult of saints. Whittingham believed in
the sanctity of the Word, not of places, spaces
or things, and this major theological shift in
the notion of sanctity would cause a similar
shift in the patterns of use and focus of the
architecture.

The radical nature of this shift can
hardly be exaggerated; Cuthbert’s presence had
defined the community from before his death on Lindisfarne. He was a constant presence with
them, their patron and protector, interceding
for them and working miracles. The whole of
the life and miracles of the saint were shown in
a set of windows running all the way from the
south door into the cloister right to the door
to the new cathedral. These too were smashed
during the reign of Edward VI by Dean Horne.[11]

Clearly, during the medieval period, sacred
space hallowed by the presence of the saint was
to be found both within and outside the church.
The cloister was hallowed ground, a place of
ceremony and prayer. It was in this eastern part
of the cloister where, on Maundy Thursday,
13 poor men had their feet washed by the prior
and were given 30 pence along with food and
drink. Daily after eating, the monks would
proceed through the cloister into the garth
where they would say prayers for their departed
brethren buried there. They would then return
to the cloister for study until evening prayer.

Bishop William Carileph, Prior Turgott and
Malcolm King of Scots (as chief benefactor) laid
the first stones of the new cathedral in 1093,
and when the choir was complete in 1096,
Bishop William ordered that the Saxon building
completed by Bishop Aldwin should be pulled
down. Bishop Cosin’s manuscript recounts
how William went to Rome in 1093 to get a
licence from Gregory VII to remove the lazy
Canons and replace them with Benedictine
monks from the twin monastery of Jarrow and
Wearmouth. William died two years later and
was succeeded by Ranulf Flamberd as Bishop.[12]

The Central Tower viewed from the Cloister (Photo: The Chapter of Durham Cathedral)

Long before the cathedral was finished,
probably with the completion of the eastern
arm in 1104,[13] Cuthbert was translated into
his new tomb, ‘a faire and sumptuous shrine
about three yards from the ground on the
back side of the great Altar which was in
the east end of the quire, where his body
was solemnly placed in an iron chest’. This
feretory was in the original apsidal east end
of the Norman cathedral, the shape of which
has been archaeologically well established.

On the arrival of Bishop Richard
Poore from Salisbury in 1228 a new eastern
termination was projected, resulting in the
Chapel of the Nine Altars, completed in 1253.
These architectural changes transformed the
pattern of use for this most sacred area of the
cathedral. Pilgrims and their circulation routes
had to be separate from those of the monks
who were constrained to total celibacy; altars
had to be separated from the laity; the relics
had to be securely protected; and peculiarities
of the local rite were to be suppressed.

The nine altars were ranged each in its own
bay and separated by panelling with storage for
all the supplies, vestments and objects for use
there. Everything was at hand for the reverent
celebration and reservation of the sacrament,
and for the final ablutions. The iconography of
the space, though it is not a tightly coordinated
scheme, is established by the dedication of the
altars and related stained glass in the windows
above.[14]With its grand new setting, the now
square feretory of St Cuthbert was continuously
embellished with jewels and gifts from pilgrims.
The tomb itself in the feretory was:

estimated to be one of the most
sumptuous monuments in all England,
so great were the offerings and Jewells
that were bestowed upon it; and no
less the miracles that were done by
it, even in these latter days;… And
at this feast [St Cuthbert’s Day,
20 March] and certain other festival
days and at the time of divine service
they were accustomed to draw the
cover of St Cuthbert’s shrine… and
the said rope was fastened to a
loop of Iron in ye North pillar of
ye feretory having six silver bells
fastened to ye said rope; so as when
ye cover of ye same was drawing
up ye bells did make such a good
sound that it did stir all ye people’s
hearts that was within ye Church
to repair unto it and to make their
prayers to God and holy St Cuthbert;
and that ye beholders might see
ye glorious ornaments thereof.[15]

The aural interconnectedness of the spaces was
important: the sound of the bells on the shrine’s
mechanism rang out through all the spaces of
the cathedral prompting prayers in response
and, when the shrine was accessible, visits to see
the splendid offerings. Lord Neville, for instance,
after victory in battle, brought the banner of
the King of Scots and a captured holy cross as
well as jewels for a thank-offering to the saint.

Cuthbert was a powerful patron and all the
sacred activities, ceremonies and liturgies were
carried out with reference to places hallowed
by his presence and the iconography of his life
and works. Candles held aloft on the ironwork
of the feretory lighted the liturgies celebrated on
the nine altars; the main objective of the pilgrim
was access to the feretory, but as an alternative,
the monument of his former resting-place in
the cloister was also acceptable; the cloister saw
ceremonies of foot-washing and monk’s funeral
processions passing that same monument;
finally, the high altar, for the grandest of
liturgies, was hard up on the west side of the
feretory. Above the high altar was a pyx (for
the reserved sacrament) in the form of a silver
pelican feeding her young with the blood of her
own breast, as an image of Christ’s sacrifice.

The feretory of St Cuthbert (Photo: The Chapter of Durham Cathedral)

Separating the high altar and the
feretory was the magnificence of the Neville
screen. Architectural separations, however
grand, between these sacred spaces were
visual by degrees, not aural separations, so
their texts and chanting and petitionary
prayers were overlapping and interwoven in
simultaneous, although differently geared,
cycles of monastic and lay worship. It was
not perfectly integrated, but was rather
all-embracing. The great processions took
the host, relics, crosses and banners round
all the spaces of the cathedral and on great
festivals they went out into the town linking
other churches into the liturgy as well.

The rites swept sacred objects, sacred
spaces and sanctified people into a great
cycle of worship and praise and thanksgiving,
united with the saints and the whole company
of heaven. The author of the Rites had seen
it all pass away, fondly recording his vivid
memories before they too were extinguished
with his aging generation. The Reformation
seemed to have effaced this grand and
dignified unity of liturgy and architecture,
but during the 1620s and 1630s, John Cosin,
first as Prebend, then after the Restoration
as Bishop of Durham, began to recover some
of the lost glory. He was owner of one of the
manuscripts of the Rites of Durham and had
a good deal of sympathy for the old ways.

With the Reformation, a defining chapter
had closed for the liturgy and architecture
of Durham, as it had throughout England.
Nevertheless, successive adaptation of both
the liturgy and the architecture, including the
involvement of ‘Wyatt the Destroyer’,[16]Sir George
Gilbert Scott and the cathedral’s modern rebranding
as a World Heritage Site, all provide
fascinating insights into a local distinctiveness
tempered by broad national similarities.

~~~

Recommended Reading

John Crook, The Architectural Setting of the
Cult of Saints in the Early Christian West
c300-1200, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 2000

Joseph Thomas Fowler (ed), Rites of Durham:
being a Description or Brief Declaration
of all the Ancient Monuments, Rites, &
Customs belonging or being within the
Monastical Church of Durham before
the Suppression, 1593, Surtees Society
Publications, Durham, 1903

Acknowledgements

This article is a foretaste of a longer essay that
will be published in 2012 as part of a new book
on Durham Cathedral edited by David Brown,
a professor at the University of St Andrews and
previously professor and canon at Durham.
I am indebted to many in the cathedral for
their help including Canon Rosalind Brown;
Alastair Fraser, Gabriel Sewell, and Catherine
Turner in the Cathedral Library; Andrew
Gray in the Archive and Special Collections;
and Ruth Robson, the Events Coordinator.

Notes

1 Published in 1903 by the Surtees Society in a
critical edition by Canon Fowler showing the
variations (see entry in Recommended Reading)
2 Roll, c1600, in Rites of Durham, p63, (English
quotations have been largely modernised).
The coffin made for him in 698 is in the Treasury.
The lid is carved with an image of Christ in
Majesty surrounded by the four Evangelists; the
end has the earliest English representation of the
Virgin and Child.
3 Ibid, p66
4 Ibid, p66-67
5 Crook, p167, n40; and Roll in Rites, p68
6 On this confusion see also the note in Rites, p249
7 Rites, p72
8 Roll in Rites, p67, & MS Cosin, c1620, pp74-75
9 Modified by MS Hunter 45
10 Crook, pp168-9
11 Roll in Rites, pp76-77
12 MS Cosin, p73
13 Crook, p168
14 For a detailed description, see MS Rawle 1603, in
Rites, pp118-22
15 MS Cosin, interpolation from H 45, c1655, in
Rites, p4
16 Georgian architect James Wyatt (1746-1813), who
earned a reputation for over-zealous ‘restoration’
work at the cathedrals of Salisbury, Hereford and
Durham

Historic Churches, 2011

Author

ALLAN DOIG PhD FSA, fellow and chaplain
of Lady Margaret Hall, University of Oxford,
read architecture at Cambridge and held
research fellowships at the universities of Hull
and Delft. He is a member of the Diocesan
Advisory Committee for the Care of Churches
and the fabric advisory committees of Ely and
Salisbury cathedrals.